


A million years

by 2swallows



Category: One Direction, Zarry - Fandom
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Model AU, Zarry AU, a lot of shit happens, im sorry, it is sort of rushed, zarry model au, zayn model!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:39:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1481575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2swallows/pseuds/2swallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is surreal and rushed and people meet each other in ways only movies show, but i hope you'll enjoy anyways!</p>
    </blockquote>





	A million years

**Author's Note:**

> this is surreal and rushed and people meet each other in ways only movies show, but i hope you'll enjoy anyways!

They say there are two types of people, but Harry Styles was like a third type. His mom used to say that he lived in the moon most of the time, but the truth was, Harry's memory was like a glass with a small crack at the bottom and water drops would leak out of it all the time. He wouldn't remember a birthday, a surname, or a timetable but he'd always remember a face. He'd remember the little freckle under their right eye and the slightly crooked teeth along with the crack on their lower lip and the small scratch at the base of their neck. However, whatever was the case, it would always lead to an awkward situation in which he'd be the guy staring from a distance because, isn't it awkward to be remembered by a person that you don't remember? It is also awkward the other way around because he would always remember a face even if the person didn't remember him. Harry was far from having any sort of photographic memory but faces would just get stuck in his brain, making a bigger mess out of his memory. A bigger mess than his rebellious not-so-curly curls.  
Today, it was happening again. He had already gotten used to it, learned how to make things less uncomfortable, but today anything he could of think would be useless. Harry had found a small coffee shop, of those that held a stronger resemblance to a hole in a wall more than to any sort of shop, and he had already decided on a cold coffee when he saw him. With light brown, almost hazel eyes, a boy stood in the line, just one person before him. Dark haired and tall, almost as much as him, the skin tight over cheekbones that'd be sharp enough to cut paper, eyelashes that cast a shadow over his cheeks and pink, pink lips. Harry already knew how to handle this sort of situations because he had friends enough to be busy by each of them for months on end, and anything about this happening to him yet again wouldn't have been awkward of it weren't for the fact that this was London, not the small city of Holmes Chapel that he knew from one end to the other, nor was this Oxford or UNI.  
So he did what he always ended up doing--stared. The boy was looking down at the phone in his hand as the other rested in the pocket of the musky green parka, shifting the weight of his body in his used Doc. Martens. This boy was pretty, with ink peaking out of the unbuttoned part of his shirt. It almost seemed so bizarre to call him "hot" or anything of that sort because that would of be like an insult to that delicate, if not perfect, genetics match. So why didn't Harry remember his name? He would never let himself be that stupid.  
And then the barista was giving the boy his coffee (black, no sugar) and he was taking the steamy cup and he was turning around and going out and fuck. Were there rules about chasing after strangers? Harry left the light stalker-ish feeling die in the pit of his stomach.  
Coffee forgotten, he turned around, giving three long strides to where the boy was already pulling the door open. When his fingers made contact with the denim of the parka, Harry could feel the sharpness of the boy's elbow under the fabric and he was already turning around with his eyebrows furrowed as he gave him a once over, but no words besides 'fuck' and 'shit' and 'fucking shit' came to Harry's brain then, because even calling him pretty was like an insult seeing him this close, the smell of his strong cologne only causing his senses to get fluffier.  
It only helped Harry realize that there was no way he had ever met this boy, in his entire life. Blood was already making his cheeks rosy and hot and his tongue was seemingly tangled as the boy gave a step back, trying to break free from the grip on his arm, but Harry only tightened his fingers a bit more around him, because Harry wasn't letting him go that easily now, so he stammered over the dryness of his mouth and tried to think of something to say instead of staring of the angelic figure.  
"Do I- Have we met before?" Harry stuttered, already beating himself up as the boy looked around the shop as if pleading for help  
"I don't think we have, no." The boy said more of an annoyed question than a statement, and his voice was so deep with the thickness of his accent that it only made Harry's cheeks feel even warmer  
For the first time he didn't know what to do, what to say, or how to react and he was Harry Styles, and Harry Styles does not just gets tongue tied with strangers, or girls, or boys or professors because he just doesn't, and he never had before. But as he searched in the boy's eyes for something, anything, he saw him do the same, until Harry felt him try to pull away once more and he didn't stop him from doing so this time.  
"Can I know your name?" Harry asked just as the not-so-familiar face used his heel to crack open the shop's dingy metal door.  
The boy looked from his coffee, to him before looking around again, his expression painted with doubt, before letting it roll off his tongue swift and simply.  
"Zayn" He shrugged, brining the top of his coffee to the tip of his lips, blowing shortly before he turned around, pushing the door open by its handle and left, letting in a cold breeze of air as he did so.  
And just like that he was gone and into the crowded streets, as Harry stood there, watching him disappear with his name still echoing in his head. He even heard it that night before he fell asleep.

***

Harry had known Niall for about four years now. While he studied Philosophy, Niall studied to get his degree in Physics. After they had finished their studies, both of them managed to get enough money to rent an apartment in Primrose Hill. Niall worked in a coffee shop, claiming that the only reason he'd gotten a degree was for his dad. Harry worked in a bakery around the corner, claiming the same, except he had only gotten his degree because his mom had begged him to. She convinced him on getting one as a 'back up plan' which worked for Harry back then. The both of them finishing their studies with the skim of their teeth, packed their bags and moved to the bright lights and trendy city of Camden, London. It wasn't quiet as they expected, but there was a sense of independence that the city granted them that made it all worth it, even when the money was quiet tight and they lived off pizza and cheap beer.  
October was ending and the cold had started to spread, their apartment's lack of space being for once good for both of them as one old radiator, gifted to them by Niall's grandmother, managed to heat almost every corner.  
Harry had made some pasta after he returned from the bakery, flour buried under his nails littered in his hair. He had made up an order of five dozens cupcakes and his knuckles were hurting after all the frosting. The table had just been set when Niall got in, walking to Harry with a smile a little to hyper for his own liking.  
"You fine?" Harry asked as Niall drooped his coat on their sofa and walked up to him with the tip of his nose slightly pinker than usual, rubbing his hands in hopes of warming them up.  
"You won't believe what I got us." Niall smiled, his cheeks pushed back far at the thought of his news, and Harry left the napkins on the table, turning to fully face his beaming roommate.  
"What did you do?"  
"Well, you know my aunt Marla?" Niall asked, pulling out one of the table's chairs and having a seat.  
"Yeah," Harry nodded along, he knew all of Niall's family, even almost all of his eighteen cousins.  
Niall ran hand through his short hair before resting his elbows on his knees, and smiled as Harry pulled out the other chair in front of him.  
"Well, she has a friend and he is married to a woman who has a daughter and she-" Niall rambled his accent only making it worse for Harry to understand.  
"Niall calm down and just tell me, you're scaring me." Harry chuckled, kicking at Niall's foot.  
"Kate Moss--we are going to her party." He said simply, but brought his fingers to rest on his lips, nipping at the nubs as Harry gawked, speechless.  
Harry's jaw dropped, he knew Niall had connections--he had as many friends as Harry, if not more--but Harry wasn't aware that he had that sort of connections.  
"How?" His voice resembling the almost exact sort of doubt his face showed.  
"Well, we are going--but not as guests?" And Harry rolled his eyes, standing up to check the pasta bubbling on the stove. "We are going as, like, DJs?" Niall explained, scratching the back of his neck as he stood up beside Harry, moving to eat a slice of the tomato that Harry was chopping.  
"What? Doesn't she has money enough to hire real DJs?" Harry asked, pausing his chopping to furrow his eyebrows at his blond friend, swatting his hand from the slices.  
"I already told you, my aunt Marla offered this me." Niall shrugged kicking his shoes off into the living room. "I was not going to let it slide" He noted, his voice plain, as if the answer was obvious. "Besides, it won't be that hard, we just have to set a playlist and done."  
"You sure 'bout this?" Harry was excited, his heart already stammering with hope, anxious for a taste of what those elite circles had to offer, but he needed to know that he was not going to be there by himself while Niall drank his arse off and he was left doing all the work.  
"My aunt said she was told it was an emergency and they needed a dj now." Niall assured, quickly stealing a strand of pasta as Harry drained the water, "We are officially the help." Niall said laughing and lifting himself to sit up on the island.  
Harry chuckled at the small reference, going back to his cooking with a smile as Niall continued to tell him all about the rest of his day.

***

Saturday came around and Harry stood in front of his full-length mirror--his all black look being adorned by the navy blue pea-coat that reached the middle of his thighs, and his black Chelsea boots to match. It wasn't hard for him to dress up, considering mostly all of his wardrobe was of neutral colors and jeans ripped on the knees with the occasional plaid shirt or the overly-used beanie. He ran a hand through his hair and walked into the bathroom, brushing his teeth as he searched for his cologne. They'd been lucky enough to find an apartment with a bathroom for each bedroom, and even when the water of the shower always ran cold after about four minutes, he was glad of having some space to himself.  
Harry gave a final once over to his reflection before nodding, walking to meet Niall on the front door, already waiting for him. He wore black jeans and a white t-shirt, his black leather jacket hugging his middle comfortably. He patted Harry on the back and made his way out, locking the door after them. The directions they'd been giving by Niall's aunt wasn't very far from where they were, a ride of twenty minutes being enough for them to be on time.  
It was a little bit after eight when they found the location, the sun long gone and the cold breeze making Harry's hair go in different directions. Nobody paid them much attention after they presented themselves to the event planner, who leaded them to a separate booth inside the house, near a staircase.  
The place itself was rather simple, minimalist, with small booths for the guests to sit at and an empty space that would do as a dance floor. The lights were dim and there was a group of bartenders already making drinks, but to Harry's luck, Niall was too busy setting up the music to pay them any attention, by now. They had set up some different playlists, opting to choose which to play once the party had started and they could gauge the reaction of the guests.  
It was well after midnight that the house was crowded, the lights gone and the music being the right one as the people chatted over it. The ambient was calm, selected, the air smelling of expensive perfume and smoke. They were deciding on what song to play next when someone patted Niall's back, making them both turn around.  
"Would you lot mind making me some space?" Harry's jaw went slack as he turned to fully face the voice. Tall and as British as possible, Nick Grimshaw stood in front of the two of them, Niall nudging into Harry's ribs as a silent way of saying 'holy shit'. Harry always listened to his radio show and he was eager for letting him know, but he was at Kate Moss's party, so he just moved and made him some space, and of course it was Niall who engrossed in a conversation with the actual professional dj.  
"Who wants something to drink?" Nick asked, Niall already nodding as the older man motioned to the bar with his head, his eyes roaming over Harry in a way that made his cheeks warmer instantly.  
"It's okay, I'll go get us something, yeah?" Harry felt like chatting with them, but he also felt like having some change of air as he cleared his thoughts in hopes of returning with enough alcohol to let his clumsiness subside. He didn't want to face a further embarrassment in front of them, so Harry walked to the bar, asking for champagne and a few glasses, and while he waited he felt so odd, surrounded by people that would put him to shame in more than one way with their fur coats and Lanvin suits, their faces being on the covers of Vogue or Billboard, if not Forbes.  
Harry, again, was caught up in his head, too engaged in a loose strand in the sleeve of his t-shirt, to realize that someone was awaiting behind him, until the person cleared it's throat and Harry's head turned to face the sound in a movement fast enough to blur his vision for a second.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't-" Harry stammered, but closed his mouth quickly once the shorter man quirked up at him.  
"How tall are you?" The man asked, looking at Harry up and down as if he were a piece of art in a museum, his finger rubbing slowly along his scruff littered chin.  
"Five-foot-ten?" He wasn't really sure of how tall he was, the last time he checked long forgotten--as everything else. With that, he grabbed the small tray with the glasses of champagne, supposing he had been blocking the stranger's way.  
The boy looked Harry in the eyes and blocked his side step attempts to walk away and extended his hand, "How come I haven't seen you before?"  
Harry was lost, not quiet catching the way the conversation was going.  
"I just don't usually take part in this sort of events." Harry shrugged balancing the tray with one hand and waving to the large mingling crowd.  
He kept staring at Harry, blue eyes piercing his as he kept observing him from different angles, walking around Harry's tall, lean figure, before he introduced himself.  
"I'm Louis Tomlinson, model's manager and it's a pleasure to meet you." The man said waving a limp wrist hand behind him to the close-by clique of models sipping on their glasses of champagne.  
"I'm Harry" Harry said shaking Louis' hand, squinting to look further behind the short man at the mingling women and men. "Model's manager?" Louis was certainly good looking, his brown hair accentuating his blue eyes and his black suit making him look tall and slender, even if Harry was at least a head taller than him.  
"Yeah, well, mostly male models," he explained, taking the tray off Harry's hands and leaving it on the bar once again, "Zayn Malik is part of our agency" A slight pang of pride weaving in his voice.  
Harry could feel his jaw going slack as Louis's eyebrows furrowed slightly.  
"Zayn Malik?" Harry asked in reassurance to himself, swallowing hard as he matched the name and face almost instantly.  
"Yeah, you a fan?" Louis's eyes narrowed slightly but the smile attached to his lips didn't falter.  
"A fan?" That had thrown Harry off, but would of be a good explanation at the same time, he reasoned.  
"Harry, are you mocking me?" Louis asked, tilting his head as the corners of his lips pulled into a tight devious smile and Harry's cheeks flushed even pinker, almost a rose color, at Louis's harmless accusation.  
"No, no, I'm sorry you just caught me off guard, I guess" he tried to explain, clumsily, mentally slapping himself for being so bad with words during the moments where he's suppose to be quick and quirky.  
"Well, he and some other of my boys, are sat in a booth and you are invited to join us, Harry" Louis said, placing his hand on Harry's bicep, where the sleeve of his suit rolled up slightly to show some bits of ink.  
The fact that Zayn was part of a circle that Harry had always looked from afar was so ironic, but it would of make things so much clearer. That'd explain why he felt as if he'd seen him before--he probably had, in a magazine or something. The prospect of finding him again was making his heartbeat race to a worrying peace, but at the same time, the traces of their last conversation had left him in an awkward, creepy situation, yet again. Maybe Zayn wouldn't recognize him and he could be the same old Harry and just stare at him and when the fuck had he became such a stalker? He wanted to hit his head into a wall when he followed Louis lead to an separate selection of booths he wasn't aware was there. Finally reaching a small sofa where two boys were chatting, empty bottles of champagne scattered in a small table in front of them, Harry could feel his throat run dry.  
Louis lead them to sit in a small sofa right in front of them, the leather sinking under their weight as Louis rested his back comfortably against the couch.  
Harry looked around and it was almost instantly that he found him. Zayn was in the small sofa right in front of them, wearing a suit that seemed to coast more than the amount of all of his own belongings and smelling like a mix of perfume, alcohol and smoke. He chatted away with the guy next to him, laughing and gesturing something with his hands, and by the looks of it, the alcohol may had something to do with it. Adding Zayn to this new surroundings only made him that little bit more of a platonic sort of person, very much resembling the feeling of longing for the older senior in the Letterman jacket that every girl sighed for.  
Louis may had introduced them to Harry because when he came back from his little trip to the space, they all were looking at him with drunk smiles on their faces.  
"Hey" Harry said and Louis laughed, but he was not very sure as in why.  
"Liam" One of the guys on the sofa introduced--not Zayn--and he extended his hand to Harry, the gesture held some warmness somehow.  
But then Zayn's turn came and the smile on his face slowly faded as he looked at Harry, the emotions flooding on his face like a landslide and forming a furrow right between his eyebrows.  
Harry managed an even weaker 'Hey' and he realized that the tension might as well been fluorescent because Louis asked something along the lines of 'Have you two met before?' and it became even more clearer, almost touchable when Harry said 'No' and Zayn mumbled a bold 'Yes'  
Now it was Harry's turn to do some explaining, scratching the nape of his neck as the rest of the crew looked around confused.  
"We've might have bumped into each other sometime ago but we hadn't, you know, properly met." Even when Louis laughed it off and gave Harry a glass of champagne, he could still feel Zayn's eyes on him and it felt like walking on an iced pond, because it could of break anytime soon.  
Zayn reserved some cold stares to Harry until he left, only sending a nod of his head in his direction.

***

It wasn't until the next morning that Harry saw Niall again, limbs outstretched in his mattress and his chest bare as he snored lowly, as any other Saturday morning, Harry walked to the sleeping figure in the bed and nuzzled closely, resting his hair on the spot in which his shoulder met his chest and hearing the steady peace of his breathing for a few minutes before he heard Niall yawn, moving his hand to rest on Harry's back and tracing slow patterns on it. They'd always cuddle on Saturdays mornings, watching movies and eating on their small sofa before the night came again and they could get ready and head out again  
"How'd you get home last night?" was the first thing Niall asked, turning to face Harry with eyes that seemed even bluer with the morning glare.  
Harry only shrugged as an answer because truth was, the memory was kind of blurry. He remembered Zayn leaving with a cold look, remembered drinking champagne with Louis, remembered him offering him a ride home, and the rest was kind of a dream, fuzzy images and blinding lights mixing with the sound of Louis's laugh. But Niall pressed his finger to a spot in between Harry's ribs bones, electing a hiss from his lips before Harry resolved on saying something much simpler than explaining it all "Fine I guess, you?"  
"Well, that Nick guy and I took a cab and left me here by four am. "Harry realized he didn't even know what time he'd been at home, but his stomach was growling already.  
"Go take a shower and I'll make us breakfast or lunch of whatever, okay?"  
Harry stood up and left a sleepy Niall in bed with a pat on the leg, as he walked to his own bedroom, putting on a pair of joggers that clung low to his hips before searching for his phone, finding it hidden between the sheets of his unmade bed and without an ounce of charge.  
Harry decided on making pancakes with the last bit of mix they had, making a mental note to go grocery shopping before he could forget it all together. Deciding on making chocolate milk, he still didn't know what time it was, but the sun was bright through the cold clouds--resolving that it couldn't be that late, maybe two or three pm. Niall shortly joined him in the kitchen, making toasts with some slices of bread they had left, thanks to Harry's job, and then turned the radio on, letting the music in a low volume to make them company as they eat in silence.  
"Nick invited us to his house, tonight" Niall spoke and Harry, for once, didn't mind that he had crumbles of pancake around the corner of his lips before he answered, not bothered on hiding his surprise  
"What?" The disbelief vibrant in his voice.  
"He said he was meeting with some friends and that we could tag along." Niall shrugged, forking some pancakes into his mouth.  
Harry still didn't fully get it, but he shrugged before turning his attention back to his half eaten pancakes.  
"I'm sure he meant he invited you, I didn't even return with the drinks" Harry mused, dropping his fork to his plate and wiping his face with a napkin.  
"None sense. He's eager to meet you, asked me loads 'bout you last night." Niall smirked and Harry nearly choked on his chocolate milk, cupping his hand over his mouth while Niall chuckled lightly under his breath.  
"Niall, stop being delusional." Why would someone like Nick Grimshaw need to know anything about Harry?  
"Whatever, you're coming tonight." was Niall answers as he gathered there plates and placed them in the sink while Harry sat at the table, still confused at, well, everything.  
Niall finished washing up the dishes before taking a quick shower and leaving with the promise of being back to pick him up later, leaving Harry by himself with the low lull of the radio in the small apartment to make him company. He then remembered he had to do the groceries, and decided that it could of be a productive way of spending his Saturday afternoon. He searched for his phone in the pockets of his joggers, remembering he still hadn't plugged it.  
Harry liked to think he'd started to have a better memory, maybe.  
He walked back to the kitchen, connected his phone to the charger on the wall, letting it rest in the counter and watched as the device came back to life before he opened a new document and started to roam through their counters and shelves, writing down what they would of need to get to the end of the month. Usually, Harry always forgot to pay the bills or check the mail, so Niall would have to be running around town to pay them before they left them without TV or electricity. Making the groceries, however, was Harry's duty.  
He was in the midst of writing 'sugar' when he received a new message, the phone silently vibrating in his hand as he typed.  
"Is your hangover yet to kill you, Styles?" The number had an assigned name--Louis Tomlinson. Harry didn't actually remember giving him his number, but neither did he remembered getting home last night, so it didn't surprise him that much, so he typed away a simple answer.  
"Not really, slept like a baby, yours?'"The answer took less than a minute to come.  
"I think I will be blind if I as much as open my curtains, actually." Making the corner of his mouth quirk up into a smirk.  
And that was how the rest of the afternoon went by, with Harry texting Louis back and forth, even as he picked up the groceries. Louis mentioned he had some commitments to attend, and that they'd be speaking soon. Harry couldn't help but smile at the screen, because even when he hadn't learned anything significant about Louis, the boy had still managed to make him kind of giddy through some meaningless texts.  
The oven has just been turned off, the apartment smelling like cinnamon and vanilla--partly, thanks to Harry's scented candles. When Niall came back later that night, walking directly to where Harry stood, washing the dishes as he left the cookies to cool down.  
"Don't you even think of eating them now." Harry scolded, turning to face Niall with his mixing spoon still in hand, pointing at him as if it were some threatening weapon. It could of be, Harry thought, but the wood was too light to actually hurt someone.  
Niall smiled widely, sitting at the table with his hands under his bum, like a child trying to impress his parents.

"You ready? I told Nick we'd drop by at the nine."  
Harry, as always, had lost himself in the cooking and the loud music playing from the radio's speaker, so of course he didn't know what time it was. He wiped his hands blindly against the fabric of his joggers, leaving equally messy hand-shaped spots on it.

"I--erm, yeah." he stuttered, looking around as if clothes were to fall from the ceiling before sprinting to his bedroom.

***

Nick's 'get together' wasn't much of a get together, but a small party. It may have not been really a party but there were quite a few people chatting and drinking beer and the music wasn't actually high, even when it could be heard from the front door. So, it wasn't a party but a nice amount of people chatting and drinking and even dancing. Not a party.

It made Harry feel sort of self conscious because he was only wearing dark jeans and a black sweater. He didn't really know when he became the all-black kind of guy, but it was easy to wear and didn't required much of a thought. However, he did feel a little bit out of place as Niall adventured into the common area searching for Nick, leaving him standing next to the door. Harry started to feel like being five years again on the first day of school after his mom had dropped him off and his sister had left and he didn't like all the flash backs he'd been suffering lately, honestly.

"Are you playing coat hanger or what?" It was girl talking, a woman, and as Harry turned to face the source of the voice he felt his jaw drop--Alexa Chung. She was taller in person, also skinnier, but her smile was as bright as the magazines pictured it to be.

"Thought I'd make myself useful." he spoke, electing a laugh from her before she extended a hand at him.

"Alexa" she said, and Harry had to bite his tongue not to say an 'I know' so instead he only replied with his name, her smile didn't abandon her face the whole time.

"Well, unless you are having too much fun on your own, you can, you know, mingle." she suggested, motioning with her head to the crowded room. Harry wasn't usually like this, he had never had a problem making friends, getting to know people, getting out of awkward situations but lately he seemed to be an intruder, not knowing how to act or what to say, as he were from a foreign country or something.

He smiled, and looked down at his shoes as he followed Alexa into a group of two girls and one boy, she of course introduced them to him, but it hadn't been two minutes after and the names had already mixed in his head except for one, Pixie Geldof, who stood at the right of Alexa and gestured something with her hands, almost spilling champagne from her glass. Harry tried to adapt to the small group as they spoke about some new Indie Rock band they've heard and even when he was ready to add something about this new song from The 1975, something else caught his attention--Zayn. Again.

Harry was actually surprised he hadn't seen him before, wearing a black shirt tucked in his grey denim, the sleeves rolled up showing a sleeve of tattoos in his right hand. Zayn wasn't very far from him and Harry's eyes might as well been shooting him fire because then he was turning, his eyes locking with Harry's and his expression showing anything but confusion before he left the group of boys he was talking to, making his way in long strides to were Harry stood with warm cheeks and wide eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me what you thought!!  
>  my tumblr is 2swallows.tumblr.com so you can drop by there if you have any question or anything, so yeah, thanks


End file.
